


Apocalypse Queens and The Admiral: Season 1, Episode 1

by penguistifical



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, also one of my favorite characters who appeared Once Ever shows up briefly, oh nice the Admiral already had a tag I wasn't sure he would, the girlfriends wander around after the Eyepocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguistifical/pseuds/penguistifical
Summary: “You’re listening to Apocalypse Queens and the Admiral,” Georgie says with practiced ease, as the three of them stroll down an empty road. “And this is our first ep-”“I don’t know that I’m sold on that title yet, really.” Melanie interrupts thoughtfully. “Not as catchy as it could be."Georgie affectionately nudges her girlfriend’s shoulder. “It’s a working title, we’ll change it later.""I do like the ‘and the Admiral’ bit though. Right, let’s restart.”
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Apocalypse Queens and The Admiral: Season 1, Episode 1

**Author's Note:**

> cw: referenced self harm, worry of unreality
> 
> also I don't think I ever actually decided what it looks like but The Admiral’s got some kind of cat carrier backpack, he’s comfortable and safe in there

The new world is quiet and empty in a way that keeps Melanie and Georgie close. Not emotionally so, in the way that stress may bond two strangers, but a physical proximity as if they’re reassuring each other that their girlfriend hasn’t, like so many other things, also vanished. They can’t stop exchanging affectionate touches, an unspoken _I’m here_ conveyed with a quick squeeze of each other’s hands, “accidentally” bumping each other’s shoulders, resting their arms around each other, even taking much longer than necessary to check and adjust the straps on whoever’s currently porting the Admiral in his carry backpack.  
  
The cat’s been content to spend most of his time in the pack snoozing, though he occasionally puts his head out to look suspiciously at a sky that, now and then, silently looks back.

After two days of traveling in short patrols around their house, Melanie and Georgie are tired of the silence.

“You’re listening to Apocalypse Queens and the Admiral,” Georgie says with practiced ease, as the three of them stroll down a road that's far emptier than it's ever been. “And this is our first ep-”

“I don’t know that I’m sold on that title yet, really.” Melanie interrupts thoughtfully. “Not as catchy as it could be."

Georgie affectionately nudges her girlfriend’s shoulder. “It’s a working title, we’ll change it later.”

“I do like the ‘and the Admiral’ bit though. Right, let’s restart.” Melanie gives a little clap, an audio marker for them both to make editing easier later.  
  
Everything they’re doing at the moment feels like it’s for a “later.” She and Georgie are exploring the world as it is so that they can make plans for restoring it later. They’re wandering and setting up safe houses where they can for the people they’ll find later. They’re recording a podcast so that people can, when the Eyepocalypse is reversed, listen to it later. 

They’d both also agreed that it’d be something fun to do in the moment for _them_. The idea that they’re making something for the future is a promise that somehow the Eye will be closed. Preferably with their help, once they find out how.

“You’re listening to Apocalypse Queens and The Admiral, this is our working title,” Georgie begins again. “Probably what we’ll do is get to twenty episodes and then, and only then, think of something much more clever that we could have called the show.” She pauses with a grin for Melanie to finish laughing. “Anyway, it’s day three out here, and things are the same for me and Mel.”

“It’s been strangely calm, no cars or anything.” Melanie says. “It’s enough to make me miss the sounds of rush hour. Almost.”

“Yeah, it’s really been a lot of nothing.” Georgie taps her chin in thought. “That’s probably for the best.”

“We did find one nice house yesterday.” Melanie offers.

“The lawn flamingos were pretty good.”

Melanie snorts a laugh. “This is going to get really stale, really fast. I’ve got more than thirty episodes under my belt that were about making waiting in a dark hallway exciting and I still couldn’t spin this into something listenable.”

“It’s not our fault that nothing’s happening to us,” retorts Georgie.

Neither of them are sure that’s entirely true, but Mel’s not felt deeply afraid since leaving the Institute and Georgie’s not been afraid for years. For whatever reason, they've been left untouched by the end of the world.  
  
There’d been a terrible storm that shook their whole flat, accompanied by an unearthly wailing that couldn’t be blocked out. The Admiral had fluffed up to nearly three times his normal size on hearing it. Georgie and Melanie had lain on the bed, curled up together with The Admiral between them, holding hands and waiting for the worst to pass.

And then, when they emerged...they were the only two people that they were able to find for miles. There weren't signs of any interrupted life, like cars stalled in the road to show that people had been taken or killed during the storm. It was just...an absence of literally anyone else. There was a terrifying sense that patches of the world had actually vanished, and that the remaining rest had been sort of stretched out awkwardly to cover the gaps. There was occasionally a feeling of a space between houses that was too big, as if there should have been something there, but the mind skipped over it.  
  
“The weather’s been nice enough since that first bad night,” Melanie comments, for lack of anything else to say about their currently bland walk. “Is that giant eyeball there now?”

Georgie glances up. “No, not right now. Hey, listeners, sometimes the sky is a giant eyeball. It probably likes the weather mild so it doesn’t get, you know, the wind blowing dust and stuff into its giant peeper.”

Melanie grins. “Imagine a dust storm for the giant eyeball. Oh, what if it has allergies, we should blow some ragweed up there.”

“We’ll deal with the potential allergies of the giant eyeball in season two.” Georgie tells her. “It might currently be our only….listener?”

“I’ll be making a transcript anyway, the giant eyeball can read our show if it likes. I’m still teaching myself programming, though.” Melanie shakes her head in disgust. “The last screen reader said the name of my show as ‘Ghost Hunter Uck’ so, there’s definitely room for improvement there. Oh, get this: sky eyeball? Skyball.”

“Excellent.” Georgie says, and then, “The Admiral, no.” She’d leaned in to briefly rest her head on Melanie’s shoulder, and the opportunistic cat had quickly stuck out a paw and tried to snag the mic she’s wearing. “He’s such a devil for that.” Georgie reaches her hand in the pack and feels around for a set of furry ears so she can give him a scritch. A muffled purr soon comes out of the carrier. “Anyway. Sky’s a giant eyeball, lots of nothing.”

“We did make out for a while in a field yesterday,” Melanie says slyly.

The expanse of grass had been a balm to find after wandering around in a patchworked looping neighborhood. They’d found a sort of shed that they’d put The Admiral in for a bit so he could run around, and then the two of them had luxuriated in the patch of greenery and sun that had, like them, somehow made it through.

They’d drowsed for a while under an eyeless sky, Melanie resting her head on Georgie’s stomach as her girlfriend ran her hands through her hair. Sleepy petting slowly heated and turned into Melanie kissing and nibbling her way up Georgie’s thighs while Georgie arched her back and sighed on the soft grass. Melanie had breathed out hotly between Georgie’s legs, grinning when her girlfriend moaned, and then, she'd promptly made a critical error in fabric resilience.  
  
“My girlfriend ruined my favorite knickers by trying to take them off with her teeth.” Georgie states flatly, though there’s a faint hint of satisfaction running under the words.

“Okay, I don’t know that that needs to be on the podcast,” Melanie begins. “And I said I’m sorry, I thought it would be hot.”

“It was hot, but I don’t know that you needed to bite through m-”  
  
“It _definitely_ doesn’t need to be on the podcast.”

Georgie gives her a quick kiss. “All right. But I don’t know where I’m going to get any new ones.”

“Georgie,” Melanie says slowly.

“I'm sorry, we’ll edit it out, Mel’. I wouldn’t keep anything that made you uncomfortable.”

Melanie shakes her head, frowning. “No, shh. There’s something up ahead.”

They both fall quiet and listen. Vaguely, in the distance, a figure is walking back and forth across the road in an odd lurching motion. Georgie quietly tells Melanie. They can hear muttering, and the sounds of something dragging on the pavement. Occasionally there is a muted growl.

Georgie hesitates, but doesn’t click off the recording equipment, not yet. It had been their earliest and easiest decision in making this show that, while they didn’t mind if the recording got emotional, they didn’t want to share any potential unpleasantness of the current world with their future audience. They’d both figured, without saying so explicitly, that people were probably undergoing enough.

“Stay or run?” Georgie asks Melanie, voice barely audible.  
  
Melanie adjusts her hold on her walking stick to more of a fighter’s grip. “I’m game to check it out, carefully.”

“It'd be better to know what it is,” Georgie agrees. “But let's not get too close. Does it sound like anything you’ve heard before?”

Melanie considers. “Yes, actually? Wait, it _can’t_ be.”

Melanie and Georgie cautiously approach, and then, cease all caution.

The source of the dragging and growling is a young man cheerfully tottering back and forth across the street while quietly reading a book out loud. Every now and then he licks his fingers and turns a page, continuing to murmur, and never showing any sign of being aware of what’s around him. He’s scraping a suitcase along behind him which travels roughly over the pavement, though the young man doesn’t seem to notice. A small dog is gleefully playing tug of war with a shirt sleeve that's spilled out of the man's stuffed duffel. The dog follows him, grabbing and shaking the sleeve and playfully growling when the man accidentally pulls the suitcase away.  
  
“Well, if you were thinking it couldn’t be a distracted guy who doesn’t seem that dangerous and his really cute dog, you were wrong,” Georgie says in bemusement, watching the man complete another circuit.

“I thought I’d heard that voice before. He nearly drove Basira mad.” Melanie recalls with a fondness almost never in her voice when she speaks of the Institute. “Tell me more about the dog.”

“It's got a floppy ear. Hello?” Georgie calls to the man. She’s ignored by both him and his dog. 

He absently turns another page in his book before also turning himself to walk back in the other direction. The dog follows, being dragged happily along.

“So, you heard about him back at the Institute?” asks Georgie. “Some kind of deranged avatar of the Stranger?”

“Nah, he’s just really chatty. Can’t he hear us?”

Georgie shrugs. “Doesn't seem like it. Well, that or he’s really into his book.”

“What’s he reading?”

“Mm, the cover looks kind of like Nancy Drew,” Georgie says appreciatively.

“Great taste,” Melanie agrees. “He’s allowed to be a guest on our show.”  
  
The man’s watch beeps, and he jerks his head from the pages with a start. “Jackie,” he tells the eager dog at his feet, “We need to head back so you can have your lunch.” He closes the book regretfully, gives Melanie and Georgie a slightly confused nod, and then opens a door in the middle of the road that hadn’t been there a second ago. 

He takes a single step inside before being immediately tossed out by a hand with fingers like umbrella spokes.

“Oh, no. Not _you._ ” 

The Admiral pokes his head out of the backpack at this strange new noise, and Melanie joyfully calls, “Helen!”

“Hello, Melanie.” Helen answers fondly, before scowling at the person she’s gently thrown out of the Distortion’s domain. “ _You._ And your dog. Stop trying to come in here.” The tone Helen uses to speak to the man is much the same as Georgie’s had been when she’d told the Admiral to stop threading his paw through her headphones.

The man doesn’t seem to be able to hear or see Helen clearly. He cocks his head back in confusion, looking remarkably similar to his terrier. After a moment, he shrugs and wanders off, dog cheerfully trotting at his heels and occasionally jumping for the trailing shirt.  
  
“No suggestibility, that one,” Helen says in disgust. “Anyway. This must be…The Admiral!”

“And I’m Georgie, thanks,” Georgie says tonelessly.

“Oh, I already knew who you were,” Helen reassures. “I didn’t need that confirmed, Melanie’s told me all about you.”

“Oh?” Georgie asks, much mollified.

Melanie snorts. “Yeah, all about my giant crush on you, it was really embarrassing.”  
  
Helen’s wandered over, peering curiously at their cat. “Mmhm, surprising number of happy couples around, considering everything that’s happened.” She tucks her dangerous hands safely behind her back in the way of casually sheathing a sword, and leans forward to bop The Admiral gently on the head with her nose. The cat returns the gesture of affection with a headbutt, and the avatar of the distortion beams. “Oh, isn’t he delightful. Anyway, just popping in because I was in the area.”  
  
“Are you doing okay, Helen?” Melanie asks, and both she and Georgie shudder involuntarily at Helen’s eerie giggle in response.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” says Helen, voice beginning to scrape like someone slamming a rusted latch. “I know that the world can seem so _awfully_ small once your inner circle of acquaintances is formed,” She gestures rings in the air, tracing a spiral from the outwards in, drawing smaller and smaller circles with an exaggerated curl of her impossible fingers. “And I know it really did seem like everyone that you knew was also in the know. But really, the world’s full of people who had no idea that any of this was coming, or even that any of us fears existed. The emergence of the Entities, it’s not like anything they’ve ever known, and now everything in their life is in question. This is madness manifest.” Helen sighs in repletion. “The other Entities, they remain what they were. The fear of fire? The heat’s the same as it ever was. But as for me, in this new time…” Helen gestures another spiral, but this time, from the inwards out, ending in trailing her hand in a loop around her whole body. “I’m growing.”

The three of them are silent for a long moment.  
  
But then, the tension is cut by Helen’s much friendlier giggle, this time with no hint of the echoes of infinite hallways. “I’m not interested in either of you two, of course.”

Georgie puts a protective arm around Melanie’s shoulders, still slightly rattled from Helen’s earlier speech. “Why ‘of course’? Do you know what’s going on with us?”  
  
“Nobody’s got jurisdiction on you two, at least for the moment.” Helen shrugs. “Quite the opposite, actually. Most people can be sorted out well enough as to what Entity’s domain they belong in, or close enough if they’re not feeling picky. It’s not as if we always need a particular match of the heart and mind, as satisfying as that is. And some of us have…” Helen scowls in the direction that the distracted man and his dog had gone. “Allergies. But you two have, at some stage, made a purposeful rejection. So, yes, everyone else is being drawn to where they belong, but you two don’t belong to anybody."  
  
“I haven't been afraid since my brush with the End, and so I’m being left alone,” Georgie says slowly, testing the truth of the words. 

“Well, there you go,” agrees Helen. “As for you, Melanie, you’re no longer attached to the two Entities you previously were tangled up with. And, especially as one of them was our current voyeuristic overlord, you’re both unclaimed. You’re left to wander as you please in whatever parts of the world currently remain untouched.”

“Good thing I got out of the Institute while I did, then,” Melanie grimaces. “So, all the monsters chunked up the world into territories, and everyone else is trapped in them…”

“Well, it was mostly our ‘benevolent’ watcher that parceled out the areas. We've all got our own little pieces of the cake. You really haven’t brushed up against anything that felt nice?”  
  
Georgie waits for Melanie to answer.

There’d been a single bad moment when they'd first been exploring the newly emptied streets around their house. Georgie had been carrying The Admiral, and, while stopping to slip a treat into the pack, realized Melanie was walking on without her.  
  
Ignoring Georgie’s teasing, “Hey, wait up,” Melanie had continued pacing dreamily forward, slowly starting to march to a rhythm only someone Slaughter-touched could hear.

“Melanie. _Melanie!”_ Georgie had yelled, as her girlfriend walked on, a blissful smile splitting painfully wide across her face.  
  
And, then, she’d stopped with a start, and groaned as consciousness came rushing back.

They’d clung to each other for a long while after that, but it’d mostly been Melanie reassuring Georgie. 

“Sure, there was one place that felt a bit of all right,” Melanie shrugs, “But I brushed it off then, and I’d do it again. I may still be angry as hell, but I’m not for the Slaughter.” 

“Well, I’m sure they miss you.” demurs Helen. “I know I would. But, if you no longer dance to the Piper’s tune, they’ll have to find someone else. Pity, I hear it’s a real party of a rock show in some of their areas. In others...well, they and I don’t get along, except for when we do.”

“Hold on," says Georgie. "We can’t be the only ones not claimed by any Entity.”

“Well, aren’t you clever,” beams Helen. “No, not hardly, but I’m afraid the number of people wandering around backstage, as it were, is going to be dwindling rather rapidly. I know I said it’s that you don’t belong to anyone, but that really should have been that you don’t belong to any of us for now.” Helen wrings her hands in a mock show of sympathy, fingers interlocking with each other like vines crawling up a trellis. “Most people that aren’t sorted are starting to fall either to the Corruption or to the Lonely. I would guess it rather depends on their desire to be surrounded by others or whether or not they’re fading away in their new solitude.”  
  
Melanie reaches out for Georgie’s hand, and Georgie gives her a quick squeeze in return.  
  
Helen shrugs. “Georgie’s a bit of a special case, but that may be how it ends up going for you, Melanie, if you won’t go back to the welcoming embrace of the Slaughter.”

Melanie grips Georgie’s hand but lightly says, “I think we’ll be fine.”

“Well, I hope so.” Helen replies, opening her door. “And if you do end up looking to join up with someone, just remember: my door’s always open. It’s just not always there.” 

She closes the door quietly behind her, and the doorframe swirls away into nothingness. It seems like it ought to dissipate with a faint pop, but it vanishes silently.  
  
“Didn't give us a chance to say good bye,” says Georgie with firm disgust.

Melanie shifts the cat-carry backpack slightly, conflicted. “She was my friend, you know. In the Institute. She fought next to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Georgie shrugs and says jokingly, “I once went out for dinner with a guy who'd never even listened to a single podcast, so, there’s no accounting for taste.”

“Thank goodness your taste's improved since then." Melanie says, reaching for her girlfriend.

Georgie wraps her arms around her, and rests her head on Mel’s hair. The world is quiet, so quiet, with no bustle from the people who should have been there, with no trees for the wind to blow through and ruffle leaves. The only sound is their hushed breathing, and then, the faint purring of The Admiral from within his carry case. 

“Yeah,” Georgie says, voice full of affection. “It really has.” She clicks off the recorder. “That’s enough for an episode. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> re: "ghost hunter uck," I do not currently have any vision problems, but I have used a screen reader before, and it did mispronounce stuff like that on occasion
> 
> thank you very much to everybody who leaves kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it a lot


End file.
